02 07 Lantern Extinguished
by NewDrWhoFan
Summary: Post "The Idiot's Lantern", 10Rose. "Although he could never tell her in words, he silently prayed that she could guess, that she would know."
1. Chapter 1

_Although this story can be read on its own (since it's intended to remain within the TV show canon), it follows on from my stories, "The Girl in the Stalking Spaceship" and "Age of Bronze"._

_Thanks to **SamiWami **for prompting (via review) a bit of clarification at the end of this chapter._

_Disclaimer: Surprise, surprise, I don't own Doctor Who. Nor do I get anything from writing these stories-except wonderful, constructive reviews! Wink, wink; nudge, nudge ;)_

* * *

Crabtree brought Rose into the office, covered by a blanket. The Doctor didn't want to believe it, couldn't comprehend that she might have become the next victim. But there she was, in that voluminous, pink skirt, and matching shoes.

"Take a good look," said Detective Inspector Bishop. "See what you can deduce."

The blanket was removed, and the Doctor approached. His Rose. His perfect, sweet, wonderful . . . faceless, "Rose."

**"**Do you know her?" asked Bishop.

"Know her? She's my wife!" answered the Doctor. He didn't realize what he'd said until Bishop replied.

"Wife? Doctor, I know you may not think much of my detective work, but I don't see any ring on her finger. Do you, Crabtree?"

"No, sir," answered the policeman from behind Rose.

The Doctor took her left hand in his right, feeling the bare ring finger. "Well, we didn't really; it was sort of an accident."

"You accidentally got married?" asked Bishop incredulously.

"This isn't really pertinent right now, is it?" replied the Doctor evasively, turning to give Bishop his best withering glare.

"It certainly is!"

The Doctor turned back in astonishment to where Crabtree had been standing a moment before. Only now, he was faced-impossibly-with his ninth form. "What?"

"Oh, it's 'pertinent', all right," his past self told himself, walking up behind Rose and resting his hands on her shoulders. "She nearly dies to save our life, we almost die to save hers, and when I hand her over to you," he looked the current Doctor up and down with disdain, "you never even thank her, let alone tell her how we really feel."

"This isn't possible," said the Doctor vaguely.

"Can you really believe anything in this world is impossible, my lonely angel?"

The Doctor turned back to where Bishop had been standing a moment before, only to be faced with Madame de Pompadour. "You. You, for one, are impossible," he told her. "You died. I was too late."

"I lived," Reinette corrected him. "I lived the life I was meant to live. I followed the slow path as far as it could take me. But you, Doctor, are you truly alive? Keeping your hearts so much to yourself, terrified of letting anyone new in. In the end it will not spare you from the pain, but you will still have the regret. Is it worth it, to deny yourself, to deny her?"

"I don't deserve her," the Doctor replied weakly.

"You'd better believe you don't!" Next to his ninth form, holding Rose's right hand, had appeared Jackie Tyler. "She's been in love with you right from the get go, big ears an' all," she elbowed "big ears", whose stern visage softened into a bit of a grin, "but you just keep leadin' her on. It's all just fun an' games to you, takin' her into danger, skippin' across the universe. At least this one sent her back to me. But look what's gone an' happened to her! My little girl! Her face . . . taken! An' what can you do about it, _Doctor_? Not a thing. She's gone. And she's never comin' back!"

Staring hopelessly at Rose's blank face, the Doctor barely registered Jackie raising her hand. His head jerked suddenly to the right, coincident with the resounding "crack" from her slap. Funny, it didn't really hurt as badly this time around. Maybe his skin had been more sensitive in his last regeneration. . . .

His eyes opened just in time to see the grating of the TARDIS floor rising up to meet him.

Okay. Now, that hurt.

The Doctor lay there, between the console and the captain's chair from which he must have tumbled, slowing his breathing and repeating to himself that it had just been a dream. The Wire was destroyed. Rose and all its other victims were perfectly restored. Rose was asleep in her room, perfectly safe. They weren't really married. They never would be married. She couldn't know how he really felt. Someday, Rose would leave him, whether by her own choice or not. She'd leave him, and he'd have to go on somehow. Like he always did.

But now, she was safe.

He climbed to his feet, wearily patting the console before turning to the corridor.

* * *

_To be continued._


	2. Chapter 2

The Doctor had meant to aimlessly wander the TARDIS corridors, but he paused when he came to Rose's door. She's fine, he told himself, but the image from his dream seemed seared into his eyelids. He had to see, just a quick check. He knocked gently on the door, and to his surprise got a response.

"Yeah?" Rose asked from within.

The Doctor swallowed, then opened the door a crack, just enough to poke his head through. "Just, um, making sure you're alright," the Doctor said lightly. "You alright?"

Rose was propped up in her bed, dressed in her nightclothes, reading a book. And her beautiful face beamed at him. "Yeah," she answered, "'s just--"

Having seen that Rose was, indeed, perfectly safe, his own concerns evaporated at her hesitance. The Doctor opened the door more fully and entered the room. "What's wrong?" he asked, hands in his pockets as he walked to her bedside.

"Just dreams," she said. "I tried sleepin', but I keep seein' the Wire." She closed her book, staring at her lap. "I feel like I'm trapped again, and no matter how much I shout, no one can hear me."

The Doctor squatted down next to her bed, and took her hand. She squeezed his in gratitude. "Me too. Dream, I mean," he admitted. He tried to make light of his nightmare. "I even got slapped by your Mum for letting that happen to you."

Rose laughed.

Then, more seriously, he added, "I should never have let that happen to you."

Rose met his eyes, and told him, "Not your fault. I was just doin' a bit of investigatin'. No one ever said it was perfectly safe."

With his free hand, the Doctor reached up to cradle Rose's face. He watched her eyes close as she leaned into his palm. "I thought--" but he couldn't finish the sentence.

Rose gave the Doctor a sympathetic smile, and held his hand to her face for a moment. "Could you, I dunno," she hesitated, looking adorably shy. "Could you stay for a while?" she asked.

Oh, thank you, Rose, thank you, the Doctor thought. "Sure," he told her. Rose set her book on the nightstand, then shifted over in her bed, making room for him to join her. Taking the hint, the Doctor shrugged out of his jacket and tie, and undid his Converses. He climbed in beside her, then made to turn off the bedside lamp.

"Please," she stopped him, "leave it on?"

"No problem," he said, lying down, facing her.

"Sorry, but," she reached out to rest her hand on his chest, "When I was trapped, I couldn't see, or feel, or anythin'. I just kept tryin' to shout, but I couldn't even make a sound." The Doctor knew exactly what she'd been shouting. The other faces in the televisions had all been mouthing "help" or "help me", but Rose had repeated just one word, "Doctor".

He raised his hand back to her face. "You're here now, your safe," he said, but wasn't sure if it was for her benefit or his own. He watched, detached, as his own fingertips slowly traced her features. Rose closed her eyes as he moved across her brow, down the bridge of her nose, over her cheek. She smiled slightly as his thumb brushed her lips.

"I'm here," she whispered, echoing his words, then opened her eyes. Her hand moved up to the Doctor's neck, playing gently with the short hairs behind his ear, her thumb just grazing his sideburns. "You know," she licked her lips and laughed a bit nervously, "that was _supposed_ to be our honeymoon. You never did even kiss the bride."

Dare he? Here they were, here she was, so inviting, literally asking, even giving him an excuse. Their accidental wedding. How many times before had he accidentally married a companion? Plenty. But this was the first time it had haunted his dreams. Still, the complications, "Rose, I--"

She visibly winced, apparently recognizing his tone. She looked down, biting her lip, and moved to pull her hand away.

Her pain decided him, and he rolled slightly towards her, shifting her head with the hand he still held there. Her eyes still held a hint of concern, but she smiled, a bit of pink tongue poking from the corner of her mouth. He leaned in and brushed his lips against the opposite corner, watching her eyes flutter closed.

He meant to give her just a bit of comfort, a gentle kiss, something that could almost be called friendly. But as he pressed his lips to hers, her fingers raked through his hair, and her mouth opened slightly in a muffled moan. He was lost.

He let her pull him against her, let her direct the kiss, let her take everything she needed from him. She was alive, she was here, she was so alive. And he was hers. Although he could never tell her in words, he silently prayed that she could guess, that she would know.

After several minutes--the Doctor had somehow lost track--Rose pulled suddenly away, eyes still closed, trying to catch her breath. She's so beautiful, thought the Doctor, as she held his head in place, their foreheads touching.

"Thank you," she whispered, still not meeting his eyes, still breathing heavily.

You're thanking me? I should be apologizing. Still, "Anytime," was his hoarse reply.

She pulled him into a hug, and he gladly complied, wrapping his arms around her. He nuzzled her neck, dropping the lightest of kisses along her jaw, her ear, but then just held her.

Her breathing slowly evened out, and he could tell she would sleep. He briefly thought that he should go, but they were so comfortably entwined that he banished the thought. He pulled away just enough to be able to see her face, now peaceful and relaxed, as she lay in his arms. What was it she'd told him? Some things are worth getting your hearts broken for? He could easily fill the hours ahead simply by counting the things he'd thought he'd lost before she'd been restored to him.

* * *

_To be continued._


	3. Chapter 3

Rose woke reluctantly, her previous nightmares about the Wire having been replaced by dreams of the Doctor. Wonderful dreams.

They were really married. Oh, she didn't entertain any notion of white picket fences or any of that nonsense. No, it was just she and the Doctor, roaming the universe, hand in hand. But they belonged to each other.

She opened her eyes, seeing the Doctor clearly in the light of her bedside lamp. He looked so peaceful. He still held her, just the way she'd fallen asleep. She couldn't remember the last time she'd slept that comfortably. She'd been partly wrapped in his arms when they'd visited Stonehenge, too, but their mattress had been made of straw. This was much better.

And she could almost still feel his kiss. She bit her lip guiltily at the thought; she'd practically stolen it from him, tricked him into it. She'd just been so desperate to feel--to feel him. She reached up, gently brushing his hair from his eyes. To her surprise, his eyes were immediately open.

"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you," she said, withdrawing her hand.

"Wasn't sleeping," he said, touching her face. "I didn't want to wake you."

Rose smiled, bringing her hand back up, mirroring his position. What she'd give to lie like this, with him, every morning. Maybe he'd be willing to, just as friends. But, oh, how she wanted more.

"Feeling better?" the Doctor asked.

"Yeah, much," she answered honestly. "You?"

He smiled a brilliant smile, reached up for her hand, and pulled it to his lips. He placed a gentle kiss to her knuckles, then rolled out of the bed. "Oh, much," he said, coming to his feet.

So, he was either happy about what had happened, or he was going to pretend that _nothing _had happened--most likely the latter.

He reached for his shoes and tried to put them on while standing next to the bed, hopping slightly in place. "You, Rose Tyler, are going to get yourself ready for a day of fun-filled exploration. No more attempts at concerts. I'm going to make you breakfast, and then we're going off into the unknown. How does that sound?"

"Wonderful," she replied.

With that, he grabbed his jacket and tie and was off. Rose was glad she'd suppressed her comment about how domestic his making her breakfast sounded. She'd pushed enough boundaries last night. They were friends, best friends. And no matter what, she was never gonna leave him, and he'd promised the same to her.

She smiled as she climbed out of her bed. She wasn't about to tell him, but that actually sounded pretty "married" to her.

* * *

_The end._

_Of course, that darn "Impossible Planet" is looming ahead of them. Hmm._

_Tune in next time for, "Gravity Schmavity"_


End file.
